Title: Everything Changes
Author: Sierra Crane
Rated: PG-13 for Sexuality, Language and Thematic Element
Disclaimer: I don't own anything here... except for the idea for the story! I'm not making any profit from it, either, so please don't sue.
Summary: Inspired by the song Everything Changes by Staind, a look at Wes and Eric's relationship... and how time has changed both of them.
A/N: I started writing this during my time in Fort Polk, LA, in the short hours before I passed out after working 12 hour shifts 7 days a week! It started out a little different, turned out this way, and ended up being WAY longer than I thought it would be. My first fic in a long time, so bear with me... but be honest! I hope you like it :)
WARNING: Slash M/M. If you're offended, DON'T READ.
---
If you just walked away
What could I really say
Would it matter anyway
Would it change how you feel?
I am the mess you chose
The closet you cannot close...
---
Eric Myers ran his hands down the front of his dark blue jacket, straightening the uniform so it looked crisp and pressed; it was his first day on the job as a Silver Guardian, and he wanted to make a good impression in case he caught the boss' eye. For the first time in his life, Eric cared what someone else thought about him. Of course, he'd heard first impressions were important to Alan Collins, and the man did--- quite literally ---control his future, so caring made sense.
He slicked back his black hair so it stayed in place and didn't fall onto his face, hoping the look made him appear older; he was aiming for the top--- leader of the Guardians ---and didn't suppose Collins would be willing to give that position to a kid. Even if that "kid" was a 25-year-old ex-Marine.
It was almost 5:45 in the morning, so Eric gobbled down some stale cereal and headed out the door to his beatup '93 Taurus; the piece of shit started on the first try for the first time that he could remember, and he sent up a silent "thank you" just in case anyone was there to hear it. He shoved the stick into the Reverse position and backed out of the driveway, pulled onto the road, and headed out.
In fifteen minutes he arrived at the headquarters building, half an hour early for his meeting, and an hour early for his shift. He tossed his gear into a tiny locker, put his foot up on a bench to double-check his spit-shined boots, then went to the breakroom for some coffee; the steaming hot liquid scalded his throat but woke him up, so he was fully alert and wide-eyed in formation at 6:30, when Mr. Collins stood at a podium and he spoke to hundreds of Guardians about courage under fire and forgetting fear. Eric supposed it was a good speech, maybe even inspirational to some, but to him it droned on for far too long; the effects of the coffee had nearly disappeared completely--- leaving behind only an undeniable urge to piss ---by the time Collins finished speaking at five minutes to seven o'clock.
Eric met his squad leader, a 33-year-old man by the name of Mike, then the four members of his squad--- Arnold, Brian, Dave and a young woman, Melissa. He knew right away none of them had any experience, and immediately resented Mike for being in a leadership position for no reason other than his age. But it was nothing to worry about, he would have that spot soon enough.
The day went on, relatively uneventful 'til almost noon, when a call came up from the Silver Hills Bank & Trust, and suddenly no one was standing still, no one was quiet. They piled into black SUVs in groups of five, Eric took the backseat of one, his blood racing and heart pounding with the anticipation of what lay ahead.
The ride took only five minutes, and in no time Eric found himself setting up position outside the bank; his hands gripping a pistol firmly, his eyes fixed on the front entrance. Minutes later, a woman came skipping out, whistling cheerfully, followed by a group of ten or so . . . robots? Eric blinked twice, confused.
The woman stopped, her pink hair bright under the noon sun, her pale skin flushed with excitement. She seemed just as confused as Eric himself.
"Freeze!" the voice belonged to Commander Porter, who stood behind Eric. "By order of the Silver Guardians, drop your weapons and surrender!"
"I don't think so!" the woman yelled, and Eric couldn't help but marvel at the complete
lack of fear on her face, even as she stared down fifty weapons trained on her. She stepped forward defiantly, gesturing to the footsoldiers around her; they raised their weapons, and the Guardians opened fire. But not before the mysterious woman disappeared in a confusing whirl of light.
"Hold your fire!" Porter shouted, raising his hand to silence his troops. "They're gone... damn it."
It didn't much matter to Eric, he mused as he got up from his kneeling position and dusted off his knees; a bunch of rich people just lost some money, it didn't effect his life at all, and he certainly didn't care about theirs. He was about to return to the vehicle he had ridden in, when a familiar voice drifted into his ears---
"I'm telling you, you'd look great in that!" the sentence ended with a laugh, one so full of life and so lighthearted it was almost musical.
It couldn't be, Eric tried to convince himself. No way.
Still, he had to go look.
"I'll be right back," he said, to no one in particular, but hoping someone heard him. And with that, he followd the sound of the voice, which was now laughing even harder as a woman spoke, her voice slightly annoyed but also amused:
"Don't be ridiculous, Wes."
Wes.
Eric rounded the corner of the bank...and caught his breath midway in his throat. Standing on the sidewalk in front of a clothing store, wearing a tight black T-shirt and snug-fitting blue jeans, was a handsome man in his mid-20s or so; blonde hair and blue eyes, a chiseled jaw and full lips. He was right next to an attractive brunette, and his arm was around her shoulders.
There was no denying it.
"Wes?" Eric spoke before he could stop himself.
And Wes turned at the sound, his face flickering with a mixture of emotions that Eric couldn't read; the blue eyes were fixed on him, and the lips were partly slightly in an O-expression that clearly showed his surprise. Then Wes smiled. His eyes squinted and the skin around them crinkled into fine lines, he put his whole face into the wide smile, and stepped forward without hesitation.
"Eric!"
Wes put out his hand, offering it for Eric to shake... but the gesture seemed so foreign, so inappropriate, that Eric couldn't even respond. He stared down at the open-palmed hand, then brought his eyes up to meet Wes'. "Hey," was all he managed, suddenly feeling awkward and unsure of himself.
"What are... what are you doing here?" Wes asked, the smile never leaving his face as he dropped his hand and sheepishly stuffed it into his pocket.
"I...live here now," Eric answered, "got a job with the Silver Guardians."
"Oh, wow." Wes nodded, and again Eric saw the emotions cross over his face. "Well, that's cool. You work for my dad now."
"I guess I do."
"Wes?" the woman Wes had been standing beside now came up to join them, a confused look on her pretty face. "Who's your friend?" she questioned, giving Eric a reserved smile that he barely returned.
"Oh, sorry!" Wes said, "Jen, this is Eric. He's, um...someone I used to know. We went to school together."
Eric hoped that his emotions were kept in check and not visible on his face, for as soon as the words left Wes' mouth he felt the air rush from his lungs, as if he'd been punched in the stomach, and damn near doubled over from the impact of the invisible force.
"Eric," Wes said, "this is my friend, Jen."
"It's nice to meet you," Jen told him.
"Yeah... you, too," Eric replied, through gritted teeth. He studied her for a moment--- her big, brown eyes and fair complexion, her composed attitude and posture, and the way she stared straight through him just like she was checking him out in the same way. There was an edge of distrust in her eyes, or maybe it was just a reflection of the fact that she didn't know him yet . . . either way, she was obviously putting on a show. Just like him.
"I've gotta get going," Eric muttered.
"It was great seeing you," Wes said, smiling again.
Eric pressed his lips together, gnawed slightly on the bottom one for a second. "Yeah, you too. See you around." He swiveled on one heel and walked away as quickly as he could without being suspicious; he had to get away, and fast, before he said--- or did ---something he'd regret later. Before he gave himself away.
Someone he used to know. Like a friend. Or some guy he knew in school. Eric tried to shake the words off, to convince himself it didn't matter, he hadn't seen Wes in years anyway, there was no reason for him to think anything of it. But the words continued to replay in his head, over and over again...
---
"How'd you say you knew him?"
Wes paused at the top of the stairs, his arms heavy with the weight of the three cardboard boxes Jen had piled onto him, full of painting supplies; he continued walking as he replied: "We went to prep school together. I haven't seen him in years."
"Seemed like he knew you pretty well," Jen commented, brushing by him to place her bag on the picnic table. She began rummaging through it. "Were you good friends?"
"Not exactly," Wes said, dropping the boxes onto the table, "he was only at the school for a few months before he dropped out. And, like I said, I hadn't heard from him or seen him since then...seven years ago." He frowned. "Why are you so curious?"
Jen shrugged. "I don't know...he just had a funny look." She reached across the table to snatch a paint brush from one of the boxes and examine it. "Like he was expecting...something, from you."
"I can't imagine what."
"Was he always a little strange?"
Wes smirked. "Eric was always a bit of an outcast," he said, "I mean, he was different than the rest of us. He was paying for school out of his own pocket, not his parents. He had a job. He didn't attend yacht parties or sleep with supermodels---" he stopped speaking abruptly when he saw Jen eying him critically.
"Unlike you?" she said, her voice holding an undeniable level of disapproval.
"Well..."
Jen held up one hand. "Forget it," she said, "I don't wanna know. You were saying about Eric? He was different than the rest of you?"
"Yeah. He had to make his own way in life, that was something none of us could even comprehend." Wes bit his lower lip, chewed on it for a second. "Some people didn't really know what to think about him, but a lot of guys didn't like him."
"And you?"
"I---" Wes hesitated, blinked once, then again. He took a deep breath and let it out in a long, unsteady way. "I tried to be his friend...probably wasn't very good at it. We didn't have a lot in common." He glanced out the window, his blue eyes growing distant, mysterious to Jen, who watched him closely. "Last I heard he joined the Marines. I don't know if that's true or not."
"Maybe you two should go out for drinks sometime," Jen suggested, "catch up." She smiled. "It's always good to see old friends."
"I don't think that's such a good idea."
"Why not?"
Wes turned back to her, a strange smile on his face. "We never really had that kind of a relationship," he said, "never went out for drinks or chilled out in the dorm. Like I said, we didn't have anything in common." He picked up a can of paint and a brush, shrugging one shoulder before adding: "Probably why he never looked back when he left the place." And neither did he, as he strolled off and back down the stairs.
Jen glanced over her shoulder at him, even more curious than ever. It seemed obvious to her that they'd been friends once, but she had no idea what could have happened between them to cause such tension as what she'd seen earlier. A fight? Most likely. Maybe something like that is what caused Eric to leave the school in the first place, though that seemed a bit far-fetched. You've been watching too many soap operas, she scolded herself.
It probably wasn't anything, and she was just imagining things to keep her bored mind busy. Content with that assumption, Jen picked up a can of paint and a brush, and walked down the same path Wes just had to meet him outside.
---
Eric tossed in his bed, rolling onto his side and nestling deeper into the prickly pillow, grunting softly; a cool breeze crept it's way beneath the cracked-open window to his bedroom and chilled him to the bone, he pulled his blanket up to his chin and curled up tighter, but it was no use. In no time he was shivering, uncomfortable and miserable even in his sleep as unwanted dreams ravaged his helpless mind.
Not just dreams. But memories...
...Gentle lips caressed the back of his neck, tracing their way to his earlobe and nibbling there playfully for a second before Eric finally reached around with a growl and grasped ahold of his tormentor; his hand gripped Wes' hair as he pulled him closer and forced their lips to meet, his heart quickening, skipping a beat. Wes brought his hand up to the side of Eric's face and cupped it for a moment, deepening the kiss, sliding his tongue into Eric's mouth.
Finally, they came apart. Wes was still sitting behind Eric on the bed, but now his face was flushed a bright red color, and the muscles on his bare arms were quivering; Eric smiled at him, giving himself a moment to take Wes in before kissing him again, whispering "Love you" and getting up to get dressed.
"Eric..." Wes sighed, looking down at the floor as Eric shouldered into a jacket, watching him intently. "You know, it's been six months now."
Eric couldn't hide the smirk that appeared on his face. "Yeah, I know."
"So..." Wes' voice trailed off.
"So...what?"
As he always did when he was uncomfortable, or unsure about how to continue, Wes groaned softly and rolled his eyes halfway. "When are we gonna stop pretending? I'm sick of acting like we're doing something wrong."
Immediately, Eric's face became stoic. "Wes, you know how I feel about that."
"Of course I know," Wes said, annoyed, "you've told me again and again. And I always have to listen. But you never give a shit what I think."
"I do," Eric told him, "really. But...think about what our lives would be like if we told everyone. If we let them know." He shook his head. "No. No way."
"So we're just gonna keep hiding it?"
"Yes."
"And how long is that gonna last?" Wes demanded, standing up and stepping forward so he was inches away from Eric. "How long before we get sick of it and decide it's not worth it anymore? We can't go on like this forever, you know." He paused. "At least, I can't."
Eric could have sworn his heart really did skip a beat at that moment, or just stopped beating altogether; his mouth went dry, his breath caught in his throat, he could barely speak: "What are you saying, Wes?"
"I'm saying...god, I don't know, Eric! But I'm tired of this shit." Wes whirled around in frustration, running his fingers through his unruly, dirty blond hair. "I don't get it...I don't get how you can be okay with it. I mean, doesn't it bother you at all?" He looked over his shoulder, his blue eyes gazing directly into Eric's brown. "We can't even go see a movie together, because you know...that's not what typical 'guy friends' do one-on-one. God forbid someone might get an idea."
"I don't like it anymore than you do," Eric said, "but...Wes, you haven't seen the way people treat...people like us."
Wes scoffed. "I haven't? Eric, you think people like my dad attend gay pride events!?" He shook his head. "Yeah right..." The anger seemed to drain from his face then, and he sank back onto the bed, stretched out and rested his elbows on his knees. "Whatever. Forget I brought it up."
Eric took a step. "Wes---"
"No, seriously." Wes held up his hand. "I'll see you later, okay? Pay attention in class." He winked, but the humor and playfulness that was usually behind that gesture was gone.
The look on Wes' face stayed with Eric the rest of the day...
...Eric moaned and sat upright, blinking quickly to clear his blurry eyes; he wiped his face with one hand---surprised when it back wet with cold sweat---with his other hand he reached out and grabbed the alarm clock. He groaned loudly when he saw the numbers flashing at him in that obnoxious red color: 2:33 AM. Not time to get up yet. But not much time left to sleep, either.
And that dream was still so vivid in his head...Wes' face was staring at him from his spot on the bed as clearly as it had been so many years ago, as if he was there, at that moment, and they had just finished speaking to each other. Eric remembered that conversation all-too-well, remembered how upset Wes had looked, but how he tried to pretend everything was okay when they met back up that night. They made love and kissed each other goodnight, Eric asked if he was all right and he said 'yes', then they fell asleep.
And two weeks later, Eric left without a word.
During the course of those two weeks, Eric had watched Wes closer than ever, saw how much it hurt him to hide their relationship, saw the look that flickered across his face ever so often, and felt how distant Wes' touch was growing at night. It became too much. He just knew Wes would end it and his world would come crashing down...so instead, he did it. With no warning, and with hardly any words, he packed his bags and left Berkeley, leaving Wes standing alone on the sidewalk, staring after him with a heartbroken look in his eyes and a note for him in the bookbag. The note hadn't said much, just that he was sorry and wished things could have been different, and he hoped Wes would be okay.
He never saw him again.
Well, not 'til their chance encounter on the streets of Silver Hills seven years later, anyway. Eric shook his head in bewilderment, still unable to believe that after so long, they had finally seen each other...and it was so awful. Granted, it had been awhile, and Eric had broken Wes' heart.
Besides, you're the one who didn't want anyone to know...remember?
Eric grimaced. That was right...he couldn't deny it. Still, he couldn't deny the way it felt when Wes looked at him like a stranger, like he didn't remember any of their past together, though Eric knew that was impossible.
Oh well. Chances are they wouldn't have to see each other again anyway, so there was no point in dwelling on it. Satisfying himself with those thoughts, Eric lay back down on the hard mattress and closed his eyes to try and catch a few more hours sleep before morning came...
---
"Wes, come on!"
Jen's voice brought Wes out of his slumber with a start, and harsh reality returned to him in rays of bold light and dark colors of wood; he blinked once, let out an annoyed yawn, then shuffled into his shoes and ran downstairs in his pajamas to join the other Rangers. "What's going on?" he demanded, stifling another yawn.
"There's been an attack," Jen filled him in, "on Bio-Lab." She paused, waiting for his reaction, gauging him.
Wes swallowed, but kept his voice steady: "Ransik?"
"Just another of his mutants," Jen said.
"Well...let's go."
In flashes of brightly colored lights, the five of them morphed and took off down the street on their motorcycles, to the lab Wes' father owned; they pulled in five minutes later just as the offending mutant came outside, holding one lab attendant by her arm, dangling her a few inches off the ground. Jen was the first one to leap from her bike and snatch her gun from her hip holster, her voice rang out, strong and clear, and even brought the mutant to a sudden halt.
"Stop where you are!" she shouted, her tone leaving no room for argument.
But they always tried.
"Try and make me!" the mutant sneered. He tossed the woman forward and opened fire on the Rangers, who were helpless to defend themselves in any other way than to duck for cover; Jen caught a round that sliced across her arm, leaving behind a thin trail of blood beneath her ripped uniform. She fell to the ground a few feet away from Wes, who crawled over to her, his throat constricting so tight it made it hard to breathe.
"Jen! Are you okay?" he asked, anxiously.
"I'll be fine," she answered, shaking off the flesh wound and getting back up. The mutant had begun to flee. "Go after him!" she snapped, gesturing with her gun. "We can't let him get away!" She led the group, as usual, taking off at a breakneck speed after the mutant as he disappeared round a corner, laughing; Wes fell in behind her, matching her pace step-by-step, not noticing the Silver Guardians closing in around the building and setting up position. Nor did he notice Frax as he stepped out from behind one pillar and raised his arm---
Not until he felt the searing pain of a laser striking him in the side, shooting up his body and burning past his ribs, stopping him in his tracks; his legs suddenly felt like lead, he went down in an ungraceful heap, letting out a pained cry. Katie and Lucas shielded him with their own bodies as they returned fire on Ransik's robot, while Jen and Trip knelt at his side, the former meeting his eyes as she spoke: "Wes, are you all right?"
The pain was so bad it brought tears to his eyes, but it had already begun to dim a little, thanks to his suit...so Wes nodded, grunting. "Yeah...it's not bad," he managed, pressing his lips together and grinding his teeth. It was bad. Or at least, it felt bad.
"Let's get you up," Jen said, grasping his arm as she stood, her weight pulling him up whether he wanted to or not. Her attention shifted from him suddenly, to a sharply dressed man who ran toward them from a limo parked ten meters or so away, a concerned expression was on his aging face.
"Do you need any help?" he asked.
Wes recognized the voice, and his body tensed, sparking another wave of pain that made his head spin and knees grow weak; Jen tightened her grip on him, keeping him standing while she answered: "No...thank you. We'll be okay." Wes tried to nod, to reassure the man he'd known since he was just a little boy, but Phillips remained unconvinced; still, he uttered a hushed "All right" and turned around to go back to the limo. Wes noticed the back window was cracked open, and a pair of ice blue eyes were watching him severely...he knew his father hadn't sent Phillips over to check on him, so he guessed the poor old butler was going to get a lecture upon returning to the vehicle.
"We'll get him another time," Katie spoke up, referring to the mutant. "Let's get you back to the Tower, Wes. You're not looking so good."
"I'm wearing full-body spandex," Wes sighed, suddenly feeling tired. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, then reopened them, trying desperately to stay awake.
"Whatever," Jen said, "she's right. Come on."
Lucas grabbed ahold of Wes' other arm, and they began walking back the way they had come, no longer concerned with the mutant, or his motives for being at Bio-Lab in the first place. They made their way passed a barricade of Silver Guardians, who stared at them with different mixtures of emotions on their faces--- confusion, surprise, suspicion. One voice rose out from the group, a voice that stirred Wes from his near unconsciousness:
"Maybe you should just let us take care of things from now on. Since you don't seem to be able to get the job done anyway."
Eric was watching them, leaning against an SUV with his arms crossed over his chest; his eyes were disguised behind a pair of large sunglasses, but a cynical smirk was on his lips. Wes felt his stomach lurch. Beside him, Jen tensed, and he could swear he could feel her temperature rising and see her face turning red behind her helmet.
"Then I guess it's a good thing you were here," she shot back, "oh wait...the mutant's gone anyway. And you didn't even show up 'til all the shooting was over."
Eric lowered his arms and opened his mouth to retort, but the commander held him back with a stern warning and a firm grip on his arm; Jen glared at him and continued walking, while Wes only stared, invisible to Eric. He's probably wondering why some freak in red spandex his checking him out, he mused.
Then he collapsed.
---
Wes whistled cheerfully as he walked down the hallway, his heels clicking on the hardwood floor and echoing in the space around him; he passed fellow classmates, ignored some snickers and looks, continued on his way to his dorm room. It was worth it, he had to admit, enduring treatment like that from people his age, and hiding it from people older than him...it was all worth it when he entered the room and saw---
Nothing.
At first, he was too shocked to believe it. But gradually, the scene in front of him became clear and registered in his brain as being reality: Eric's bed was neatly made, but bare of the blanket and pillow that usually rested on it. His dresser was empty. The table next to his bed was cleared off, free of the tiny alarm clock and pack of cigarettes that usually sat on top of it. There was no sign that anyone, other than Wes, lived there.
"Eric?" Wes' voice came out as barely a whisper, uncertain and scared, all alone in the suddenly large and unfamiliar room.
But, of course, there was no answer.
He waited a few minutes, then a few more, before dropping his bookbag and rushing out of the room, back down the hallway, suddenly on the verge of panic; he walked quickly, was about to begin running, when Principal Goodall stopped him. She was an attractive lady in her mid-50s, with short blonde/gray hair and green eyes that always seemed to be upon him and Eric, and were now staring into him intensely.
"I don't know if someone told you or not," she spoke, her voice stern, "but Mr. Myers left us, he informed me of his decision this morning."
"What?" Wes blinked. "What does that...? What do you mean 'he left'?"
She shrugged, carelessly. "I think he realized this...wasn't the place for him," she said, simply, "and decided to pursue a different course in life."
"Wh-when did we go?"
"I couldn't say...probably not too long ago."
Without another word exchanged between the two of them, Wes spun around and raced out of the room, outside into the courtyard, catching a glimpse of the retreating back of his lover as Eric stalked down the sidewalk. Unafraid of who might hear him, or what they might think, Wes shouted as loudly as he could and took off running toward him: "Eric! Eric, wait!"
Eric pulled up, stopping and looking over his shoulder at Wes as he came up beside him. People were watching. "What are you quitting?" Wes questioned.
"This place stinks," Eric replied, "bunch of lazy, rich kids wasting their time." Wes flinched at the harsh tone in Eric's voice, at the way he was being looked down on by those dark eyes, stared at like he was just some other kid. "I've got bigger plans," Eric said, his stoic expression never wavering as he shoved his bookbag into Wes' arms and went back to walking toward the street.
"Eric..." Wes tried again, his voice teetering on the edge of pleading. "Eric, please!"
But Eric never looked back, not even as he turned the corner and disappeared on the other side of the metal fence. Wes was alone on the sidewalk, holding the bookbag, lost and confused; he heard someone chuckle, another whisper something that apparently had to do with his name, and suddenly he couldn't ignore them any longer. His blood boiling, his face flushed, he whirled on the people talking in hushed tones behind him:
"What!?" he nearly screamed, clenching one hand into a fist. "What the fuck do you have to say to me?"
Brad Jamison just stared up at him from his spot on the bench, then went onto talking with the pretty girl beside him, smiling, watching Wes out of the corner of his eye. Shaking, on the verge of losing control, Wes gathered himself and went back inside, straight to his room, locking the door behind him before falling into the bed he and Eric had so often shared.
"Eric..."
---
Wes moaned and came awake, finding himself on his cot with a blanket pulled up to his chin and a thick bandage wrapped around his midsection; the pain was down to a dull ache though, and wasn't nearly as annoying as the hunger he felt (and heard) making itself known. He sat up slowly, testing his strength before swinging his legs over the edge of the cot and standing up; a quick glance around the Clock Tower told him the others were gone, most likely out doing odd jobs, or perhaps battling a mutant. That thought disturbed him...his teammates going into battle without him at their side.
He made himself a sandwich out of the leftovers from the refrigerator, gulped down a bottle of water and popped a couple Aspirin, then--- when an hour passed and the other Rangers still hadn't returned ---checked with Trip's mechanical owl, Circuit, to see where they were. To his relief, they were all off performing their assigned duties for the day. Which was definitely a good thing, because he certainly didn't feel up to a fight...
Jen returned another hour later and immediately scolded him for being out of bed, even though he was laying on the couch, relaxing and watching TV, anyway; Wes pointed that fact out to the Pink Ranger, who finally relented and went off to work out, leaving Wes alone to "enjoy" another ten minutes of Family Feud.
A memory hit him...a whirlwind of vague flashes of faces, and sounds, 'til he finally focused on a specific moment in time, one he had always known he'd never forget...
... "C'mon, Eric...name the actress you'd most like to kiss!" Wes laughed as he finished speaking, watching Eric as he lowered himself to the floor and rolled his eyes melodramatically. "It's not that hard."
"Sure it is," Eric retorted, "never really...been into kissing actresses."
"Jennifer Aniston's hot," Wes pointed out, "you wouldn't be into kissing her? Or what about... Cameron Diaz? She was the best part about that best friend's wedding movie!"
Eric shrugged. "Whatever... never saw it. Why are we even playing this game?" He gestured to the board game Wes had spread out on the beige-colored carpet.
"It's Sunday...I'm bored." Wes thought for a moment. "How about Julia Roberts? She's pretty cute... I mean, she's 'America's Sweetheart' an' all... "
"Fine, I'd kiss her." Eric sighed, annoyed. "I feel like we're in fifth grade." He leaned back against the bed, took a sip of his Coke. "Who's your favorite anyway?"
"This isn't about my favorite," Wes said, "it's about who the audience picked. And--- " he flipped over the card " ---huh, number one answer is Julia Roberts. How 'bout that?" Not oblivious to Eric's obvious lack of enthusiasm, Wes silently went about cleaning up the game, then grabbed a soda for himself and came over to join Eric on the floor. He took a deep breath, trying to gain some nerve before attempting to speak, Eric must have noticed because---
"You okay?" he asked, not much concern in his voice, more confusion than anything. He eyed Wes with that wary expression in his dark eyes, and for a second, the young Collins boy thought he wouldn't be able to form a coherent sentence.
"I wanna ask you something," he finally blurted out, "but, uh...you have to promise not to punch me in the mouth." He smiled weakly, nervously.
"What?"
"You'll get why I said that...once I ask."
Eric scoffed. "Fine," he said, "just ask."
" ...are you gay?"
Eric's eyes grew to be what seemed like to Wes, ten times too large, and he jumped to his feet before anything else could be said; he looked about ready to bolt, but the look on his face wasn't one of disgust, or anything else a typical straight guy would feel like after being asked that question. For once, Eric's face was readable. His emotions were clear as rain. Fear.
"Because if you are," Wes said, quickly, "I want you to know...that's cool with me." He attempted another smile, this time feeling a bit more courageous. "I'm not the kind of asshole who thinks that's...bad or something."
"I'm not." Eric's voice was tight, his body rigid. He stood by the door, one hand reaching out to the doorknob.
"Okay..." Wes felt heat rush to his cheeks, he awkwardly stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I just thought maybe, 'cuz I never saw you with any girls...you know, hitting on them, or whatever."
"It's not the friendliest crowd around here," Eric said. "And just because I don't hit on the snotty bitches around here doesn't mean I'm...gay."
"You're right...I was stupid."
Eric turned to leave, but hesitated and looked back over his shoulder at Wes, who stood at the foot of his bed and stared at him, trying to hide how he was suddenly feeling; the overwhelming amount of disappointment that had filled him when Eric had so steadfastly denied what he had hoped. But, from the look on Eric's face, he wasn't doing a very good job at hiding it...not at all.
"Wes..." Eric squinted his eyes, as if trying to see into Wes and figure him out without having to speak. "Are you...?"
"No," Wes said, all-too-quickly, "I like...girls." He flushed bright red and dipped his head, no longer able to meet Eric's intense gaze. "I just, uh...I kind of...I don't know."
"Like guys, too?" Eric questioned, taking a hesitant, uncertain step forward, closer to Wes, who was still staring at the floor.
"I don't like guys," Wes said, "at least...I never have before." He sighed, finally lifting his head and looking at Eric again. "Not 'til you. I can't explain it, Eric...I'm sorry, I just--- " He never got another word out, for in that instant, Eric closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to Wes'. Wes responded instantly, reaching around and grasping Eric's loose shirt, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss; fire burned through his body, and a desire that had been building up inside him since the moment he laid eyes on Eric months ago came to surface full-force.
They tumbled onto the bed together, and with no other words needing to be spoken, began to undress; Wes gripped Eric's shirt and lifted it up over his head, then Eric began to unbutton the blue-striped shirt Wes was wearing. Their lips hardly left one another's the whole time. With each passing moment, their breaths grew shorter and shorter, 'til both were gasping for air.
It was Wes' first time, with a man anyway, and he was shaking he was so nervous...but Eric was gentle, more gentle than Wes thought possible. The usually stoic, or fierce, young man kept his eyes locked on Wes' as he trailed his lips down his partner's chest, to his firm stomach, and finally to his pants, which he began to undo with an almost frantic sense of urgency. Wes groaned, reached out to Eric, and found his lips again...it was all so new, and frightening, and exciting.
Some time later, Eric awoke and went to get a shower, leaving Wes in bed, with just a sheet covering his naked body; the young man lie still, reflecting on the sudden, remarkable changes in his life. It was the first time he'd ever made love with a man, that wasn't so strange a thing, he figured.
And it was also the first time he made love...with someone he loved...
... Wes shook his head, ignored the headache that the action caused, and got to his feet, trying to shake off the unsettling memory; as he carefully moved to the fridge again, Trip came bounding up the steps. The Green Ranger smiled cheerfully as he spoke: "Wes! You're up! How are you feeling?"
"I'm okay," Wes answered, opening the door and browsing through the contents before settling on some iced tea. "We need to start keeping some alcohol in here..." he muttered, under his breath.
"I ran into that Eric guy again," Trip mentioned, plopping himself down on the couch. "He's a jerk!"
Wes smirked. "Yeah...he never was the nicest guy."
"Were you two friends?"
"Not really." Wes joined Trip, started flipping through the channels on the TV. "Where'd you see him anyway?"
"There was a disturbance...at the bank," Trip explained, "nothing related to Ransik, I just happened to be passing by. A little girl was crying... so I stopped to see if I could help." He paused, thinking for a second. "Eric sure doesn't like accepting help!"
"That's nothing new."
They sat in silence for the next half hour as an episode of some sitcom aired and they watched, Trip rather intently, while Wes' interest was soon on other things--- mostly Eric. If wondered if, by some chance, Eric had come to Silver Hills in hopes of seeing him? He knew Alan Collins was Wes' dad, and in charge of the Silver Guardians, so Eric must have known the chances of running into Wes were...high, to say the least. Or did that thought not even occur to him?
By five o'clock in the evening, the powers from the morpher had nearly completed healing Wes' body and the pain had all but disappeared, so he chose to take a walk through downtown Silver Hills--- despite Jen's vehement protests. It was beginning to get dark out by the time he was passing by the little shops, just getting ready to close; he glanced at the windows as he walked by, eyeing the miscellaneous objects, some with interest, others with amusement.
Little children giggling with excitement raced by him in a blur, their parents a few steps behind them, trying to keep up, and trying to hide the smiles on their faces; a young couple sat on a bench outside the jewelry store, both staring down at the girl's left hand, to the glittering diamond on that oh-so-important finger. An elderly couple walked hand-in-hand down the sidewalk, and the little lady gave Wes a radiant smile that he couldn't help but return.
"You always were a romantic."
The dry voice came from the corner of one store, around the brick building and into the dark alley; Eric was leaning with his back against the wall, watching Wes as he walked closer and closer with every step. His dark eyes were impossible to read, his mouth was formed in a thin line, no hint of a smile, or a scowl...just a blank expression that Wes found more unnerving than any glare.
"What're you doing here?" Wes asked.
"I got a job here---"
"I meant," Wes cut him off, "in a dark alleyway in the city. Kinda...creepy." He smiled slowly, joined Eric in the dark. "You just waiting for some helpless victim to come stumbling out of that bar, or what?"
"I got sick of being surrounded by...people," Eric emphasized the last word, and Wes could nearly touch the disdain that came from him. "They're so goddamn noisy...and happy. The fuck is so great about this place anyway?" He lifted the bottle Wes hadn't noticed he'd been holding, put it to his lips and took a swig of it, then smacked his lips and offered it to Wes.
Wes stared at the bottle for a moment. "Hard liquor?"
"What...you think I'm drinking Smirnoff?" Eric nearly smiled, and Wes' heart skipped a beat. He took the drink and threw his head back as he took in a long gulp of the burning liquid, when he brought it back down, Eric's surprise was evident in his eyes. Wes smiled.
"Things change," he said, simply.
"Yeah..." Eric blinked once, and that blank look returned to his dark brown eyes; he took the bottle from Wes, holding it thoughtfully, his thumb tracing the label. "They do." Sighing quietly, he lifted the bottle and took the last sip before throwing it down the alley; it smashed into the wall, shattering into tiny pieces that flew into the air then decorated the ground. The new moonlight glittered off each glass, casting tiny rays of light on the deep red brick all around. Wes' eyes drifted from Eric's face and to the broken glass.
"I was, uh, hoping we'd run into each other."
Eric shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Why's that?" he asked, coolly, though his body betrayed his calm.
"Don't play stupid...you know why."
"Wes...that was all a long time ago." Eric fidgeted some more. "Besides, we've both moved on, so what's the point in bringing it up? You've obviously...found someone new."
"What?"
"That chick...the brown-haired girl you were with the other day," Eric said, "...Jen." When Wes didn't answer, he went on: "You two seemed pretty friendly to me."
"No...no, no, no." Wes laughed. "Jen is, um, not available. She was engaged, he died, it's a long story."
"Well, if he's dead--- "
"Believe me, no. She's out of the question." Wes shook his head 'no', still laughing. "I like her, don't get me wrong. But I don't think anything...like that, is in the cards for us." He hesitated. "What about you? Find someone special yet?"
"Yeah right." Eric snorted. "The military isn't the place to meet...people. The chicks are all dykes or sluts."
"As I recall, you were never into kissing chicks anyway."
"Shut up."
"Oh, come on...you think you're hiding anything from me?" Wes said, "Eric, in case you don't remember, we were together. You used to be my friend. You used to talk to me." He let out a long breath, very slowly. "Not the nicest way to talk about the fewer and the prouder, by the way. My cousin's a devil doll."
"A 'devil doll'?"
"You know...devil dogs, devil dolls." Wes grinned.
"That's stupid." Eric rolled his eyes. "You're an idiot."
Wes shrugged one shoulder and pushed himself off the wall, deciding all at once to walk away, that spending one more second with Eric was a waste of time. "Takes one to know one," he muttered, heading back onto the sidewalk.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Eric demanded, suddenly getting defensive and crossing his thick arms over his broad chest.
"You said it first." Wes started walking away, and sensed Eric falling into step behind him. "You are an idiot sometimes, Eric. Never been the most level-headed, clear thinking guy."
"And you are?" Eric said, incredulously.
Wes stopped and turned, the smile suddenly and completely vanishing from his face. "I'm not the one who gave up on the best thing that ever happened to him," he said, slowly and deliberately, his ice blue eyes never wavering from Eric's. "That was all you." Their faces were inches apart, each felt the other's hot breath on their skin, and Wes felt his heartbeat quicken...just like it used to, years ago.
"It wasn't like that," Eric replied, softly.
"Then tell me how it was," Wes said, firmly. "You never gave me an explanation...never gave me a word, or a second thought, never even looked back. And for the past seven years, I've been left to wonder what the hell happened. What I did." He pressed his lips together, lowered his head to stare down at the dirty sidewalk.
"...it wasn't you, Wes."
"Then what was it?" Wes looked up again, forcing himself not to flinch away from Eric's intense stare. "I think you owe me...some kind of explanation."
"It was a long time ago."
"Not long enough."
"What do you even care?" Eric questioned, "it was gonna happen anyway. If I hadn't ended it, you would have. Maybe not the next day, or month...but it wouldn't have lasted much longer, and you and I both know that."
"You left so I couldn't?" Wes said, his words coming out fast, so fast they blended together. "Why the hell did you think I was gonna leave you?"
"Wes--- " Eric grabbed his arm and pulled him aside, into another alley; he pushed him into the wall, and immediately Wes felt a hot pain shoot through his chest as his earlier injuries made themselves known. He gasped, and Eric released him quickly, as if he touched hot coals. "...you okay?" he asked.
"Fine," Wes answered, "no big deal." He rubbed his ribs gingerly. "I'm a little sore...it's been a rough day."
Eric mumbled something under his breath, spun around on his heel and walked in a tight circle before focusing on Wes again. "It's not like I wanted to leave," he said, "but...you wanted to tell people, you wanted to be out about it, and I didn't...and you were gonna get sick of it sooner than later. Hell, you said that yourself!"
"So I was tired of hiding!" Wes said, his voice rising, "what's wrong with that?"
"I didn't want...what you wanted!" Eric snapped, "it was never gonna work out. You and I both know that, and we knew it then...you were just one or two fights away from walking out on me." His nostrils flared out slightly, his face was flushed red, and he was breathing hard. He was angry, and Wes felt himself take a step back instinctively.
"So you left me?" he blurted out, "you didn't wanna get hurt...so you left me for no reason? Made me think I'd done something to piss you off, or hurt you...or maybe you just didn't care about me anymore." He slammed his fist into the wall, grunted at the impact. "Yeah, that's fair. And reasonable."
"I didn't think you'd still be wondering seven years later!" Eric defended himself, "I figured you'd get over it, move on, go on living your life just like before. Fuck, Wes, you were the one who introduced me as 'someone you used to know'! Sounded like you were doing just fine to me."
"What did you expect? Did you want me to say you were my ex-boyfriend!?" Wes laughed, with no humor. "The guy who left me...the only person I ever loved...I did move on, Eric, but that doesn't mean I never thought about you..." He bit his lip, chewed on it. "I mean, hell, didn't you ever think about me?" Eric turned away and took a step toward the wall, but Wes lashed out, put his hand on Eric's shoulder and whipped him around. "I was on with my life," he said, "I wasn't even thinking about you everyday...not anymore. But then you showed up again. And now I can't stop thinking about you! Every minute...explain the sense in that, why don't you? How you can be so calm about this, how you could just walk away without a second thought, while I'm still stuck being in love with you?"
Eric was silent for the next minute or so, and the whole time he kept his eyes locked on Wes'; finally, he spoke, his voice almost too quiet to hear: "I'm sorry, Wes...I never...I didn't want it to be like this. But things don't always go the way we want them to." He smiled, bitterness dripping from the usually happy expression.
"I never stopped," he whispered.
Then he pushed Wes aside to go back into the light of the streets, but Wes was just as quick, and grabbed ahold of Eric before he could get out of reach; he slammed the Guardian into the wall, one hand grasping Eric's thick, black hair while the other held him in place. Wes kissed Eric...just the same way Eric had kissed him a lifetime ago. Their tongues met, their hot skin touched, Wes groaned into Eric's mouth and Eric reached out to press against Wes' back, then crumple his shirt inside his fists.
They parted, breathless, moments later.
"Wes..." Eric sighed. "We can't."
"I know," Wes said, "it's too late...it has been for awhile. Hell, maybe there was never a chance to begin with." He leaned over, placed a soft kiss on Eric's lips...one last time. "We had a good time while it lasted, didn't we?"
"...yeah, we did." Eric smiled, pressing his forehead to Wes'.
"Things change, I guess."
"Everything changes, Wes." Eric lifted his hand and brushed a strand of blond hair from Wes' face, then broke free and walked away, once again, never looking back. Wes opened his mouth to speak, he wanted to say something, anything, to bring him back. But it wouldn't matter... so he stood, facing the wall, for just a couple seconds before he placed his arm on the wall and leaned his head down on it, fighting back the tears that were threatening to overwhelm him.
Everything changes... Eric was right, of course, there was no point in dwelling on what they once had. They couldn't turn back the years and return to their younger selves, they couldn't forgive and forget and start all over, there was too much between them after so long, so many issues they had never faced before...it was over. It had been over for years, but it was finally...really over. Once and for all.
Wes choked on a sob that formed in his throat, hot tears falling down his dusty cheeks and landing in tiny puddles on the cold ground beneath his feet, soaking in and disappearing forever...
END